Me: Well, first of all, hello, people! I'm a new writer to our beloved FanFiction, so I would like to give a big warm welcoming speech.

Iggy: Ugh. Not another Nudge.

Me: Iggy, shut up and get in the fnicking plothole, will ya'? And anyway, I said I would like to. Not that I will give a speech, anyway. If you want that stuff, then sorry, but just read my biography. It kills me when other authors do really long and pointless stories. That's just downright annoying. Do you hear me FanFiction? Get with the story! Anyway, some of you guys may have seen me comment before, but I didn't have an account. That's because I had to use my, um, other system that is not really a computer but has Internet, and it doesn't let you have register. So anyways, just a heads up, my computer easily breaks down on Internet, but I will have common updates. And I promise I will never give up on a story. If it makes one person happy, then I will continue. So sorry for bothering you, b-

Iggy: So, before she starts talking and doesn't shut up, like a certain bird girl we all know, here is the story!

I rolled over in bed. Couldn't sleep on my side. I rolled over again. Damn. They'd slugged me pretty hard on my stomach, too. I was beaten with butter pillows everywhere. I prayed my, erm, reproductive organs stilled worked, or Max might want kids and take Dylan instead. Why was I beaten up?, you may ask. Well, for the unfaithful ass' out there, no, I was not beaten by Ari and Dylan in a fight. And no. I no, I didn't cut myself. I would rather be doing that right now, but… Besides, can you even cut yourself with butter pillows? (If you can hit me up, Maxie took my razors. Well, anyway, this actuallhy happened because of Max. sure, I love her, (Even more so if she would just die her hair red, but noooo…) and I can forgive her for almost everything, yeah, but, uh, just read. Just freakin' read.

I was watching some chick flick about a puppy or something else stupid, and suddenly Max burst out into tears. I don't know why. Sure, a dog died and all, but we've seen worse. Max stared up at me, sniffling. "Do you think I'm pretty?", she said, voice cracked, eyes red, puffy, and swollen. I glanced downward. As I opened my mouth to oppose, more than a millisecond later, she growled, knocking me off the couch. Scratching my cheek, she grabbed a cushion from the couch, and started beating me with it. As I was being bruised, beaten, and battered, Ella, Max's sister skipped into the room, with her boyfriend Alex. Ella took one look at us, giggled and screeched, "PILLOW FIGHT!" As if it were an on switch, the rest of the flock came bounding down the stairs. And guess what? They were all holding pillows. Stuffed with butter. Not soft, fluffy, yummy butter. Iggy's blender butter. The butter with three inch diameter with the stealth of an iron rock. I gulped. "G-guys? I don't think you should do this. It's gonna hurt somebody… NO! WAIT! ANGEL! NOOOO!"

And so, that happens to be why I'm in a coma. In my own bed. NO, they can't give me the decency of being in gauze, even, because Max and her mother are too cheap to pay for hospital bills.

And Max's Mom finds a bunch of dogs more important than me. So she won't treat me.

Pity me.

Growling, I rolled over on my side, the one with the broken arm. Sure, it hurts like hell. But how else am I going to sleep?

(Not that the emo part of me minds…)

As I continued on my worthless self-thoughts, Iggy burst into the room.

"Fang," He started with a chuckle, "I pity you." (Well, you should too.) I needlessly asked, "Why the hell would you do that?" I already knew the answer. He knew about how I might've gotten Max pregnant that one time and she kicked me in the nuts so hard (Tee-hee. Perverted Fang joke.) I had to get surgery.

"You, my friend, have a PMSing girlfriend. And her also PMSing Mom and sister." Oh. I stared at him awkwardly. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Iggy glanced my way. It creeps me out how he can do that without seeing.

"Max is friggen' bitchy. So?"

"Sure, there's only a small change for her attitude, but there is a change, it has happened."

I snickered. "Maybe we should ask Dr. Martinez if dogs can have periods. Or if Max just gets pissy every couple months." That one had us both in rolling on the floor in hysterics.

Iggy added, "I'm pretty sure that the only reason Max hasn't killed you yet is because she's a blond!" The hysterics continued as we kept at the Max jokes.

"It's like, 'Panty shields up, Captain Max?' 'Yes sir, let the blood flow, sir!'"

"Cleanup in isle vagina?"

"Arts and crafts week at camp Max's underwear! Oh gosh, I hope this doesn't stain!"

"Hey Max! Got tounged by vampires lately?"

The two of us boys were attempting to breathe through all of our laughter on the floor. Gasping for air like fish out of water, we were literally having seizures on the floor. Suddenly a very irritated Max burst through the door.

"Hello, you sexist pigs! Sucked yourself off lately? I think you need to soon before your asswipe personalities start to show! Or maybe your on your periods, huh?" I heard Ella choke down a laugh from the room over. Swallowing, I stepped back from the seething Max. Iggy did the same, probably feeling Max's sudden bloodlust.

Knew what this ment. Max almost kills me once, she's a jerk. She almost kills me twice, well, Dylan's a jerk. I'm too emo-tastic to call myself a jerk.

Max picked up Ella's tennis racket.

Let's just say, a lot of screams could be heard throughout the night coming from me and Iggy.

Welcome to my world.

The Unfortunate World of Fang, Fnick, Fangles, the Not-so perfect-and-emo-hottie-anymore.

Or as I call it, a pain in the ass. Prepare to suffer.